


Greek Fire

by Xekstrin



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alcohol, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 14:24:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3532670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xekstrin/pseuds/Xekstrin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yang and Pyrrha go on a date and enjoy each other's company. Yang realizes she's never dated someone taller than her before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Greek Fire

“Okay okay,” Yang said in excitement, ushering the bartender over with a quick wave. The bar was busy tonight, a popular, local band promising lots of noise and sweaty moving bodies. Tinder for a fire. But the first thing Yang had done with her winning money was to slam a fifty lien bill into the tip jar; the bartender’s eyes lit up so fast that he might have sparked up a blaze himself. He was more than attentive after that, making sure their every need was catered to.

He pushed two shots in front of her, about to do something else to them before she shook her head, gesturing for him to stop. Confused, but not about to argue, he shrugged and went back to his other guests.

“This is what I was telling you about Pyrrha—” She twisted in her seat, looking around for her friend. “Pyrrha?”

She popped up from the crowd, beaming and flushed. “Here!” she said. “I was just scoping the area to see if there was anywhere else left to sit.” Someone elbowed past her, a little too roughly for Yang’s liking, though Pyrrha seemed unphased. “Did you know there’s a private lounge upstairs?”

“Yeah,” Yang said, “But you gotta pay the big bucks for that.”

The seat next to Yang vacated; seeing her chance, Pyrrha hopped next to her, giving her a huge grin. Yang wished Pyrrha hadn’t come in her school uniform; her armor might be too showy for a joint like this, but it made Yang feel positively predatory to be walking around in casual clothes with what looked like a high schooler on her arm. Well, a six foot tall high schooler built like a god of war, but still. “This is fun.”

Smug anticipation bubbled up in Yang’s belly. Or maybe it was the shots she’d just downed. “Wait’ll you see what I got lined up next,” she promised her, cracking her knuckles in a loud show of arrogance. It was too rowdy in the bar to hear the row of pops, but the message was clear; Yang was about to do something potentially stupid and ill-advised. “I’ve got something that’ll make you say like what.”

“Do you?” Pyrrha prompted. “Or am I supposed to just watch you drink and be amazed at your alcohol tolerance?”

“You were supposed to say ‘like what’,” she groused before immediately brightening up again. “But no, this is neat, I guarantee you’re gonna love this.” Taking the shots, she turned in her chair so that she faced the other girl. “Check it out, sweetheart,” she said, holding them both in front of her. She had to raise her voice once the band stepped on stage and the crowd’s intensity hitched up a notch. Spurred on by the noise and energy around her, Yang found her bar trick easier than ever to do.

Clenching her teeth tight and focusing hard, she hissed, a jet of flame spewing out between her teeth, a literal spitfire. Pyrrha and a few other patrons darted back, exclaiming loudly. Her heart thudded sickeningly heavy in her ears. A few shots away from being down for the count, Yang realized too late that it was almost a little too easy. She overestimated the amount of fire needed, almost singing her own hands in the process. One of the first things she’d learned in combat school was how to protect herself from her own fire, but it never stopped being frightening to see the flames dancing on her skin before she could will them to puff out in a pillar of smoke.

Through willpower and dumb luck she managed not to set the bar ablaze, proudly sitting back and passing the flaming shot to Pyrrha.

“Yeah,” she said. “That. Just. Happened.” She gestured with every word, rudely pointing each one with a jab to Pyrrha’s face. Not actually touching her, but promising to.

“Impressive.” Pyrrha said, waving her unsteady, drunken hand away. “How did you do that?”

“What, the shots? They’re just alcohol, so they light up pretty easy—”

She blew her lips derisively, cutting her off. “No, Yang, that part’s obvious. I mean the trick itself. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you focus your semblance like that.” The drink still danced in her grip, alive and ecstatic and not leaving anytime soon. “I wasn’t aware you could control the concentration and radius of the blaze.”

“Yeah well, I can!” she said. “Cheers!”

Plucking a straw out from the bar, Yang quickly dove in, sucking the shot up from the bottom while the top still burned. She finished with an exaggerated smack of her lips, winking cheekily as she puffed out the remaining flames with a single breath. Watching her with the fascination of a trainwreck bystander, Pyrrha just shook her head, blew out her shot, and drank it like a normal human.

“You could really use that in a pinch,” Pyrrha mused, curling her fingers up under her own chin and rubbing it thoughtfully. “Imagine if you were caught in a grapple, or your hands were tied. You should definitely try incorporating that kind of focused, measured blast into your training regime.”

Expression flat, Yang just raised both eyebrows at her.

Pyrrha’s throat bobbed. “Oh. Sorry. Not trying to tell you how to… I didn’t mean to just give you unsolicited advice like that, my mind just automatically goes there.” She paused. The music beat faster. “Sorry.”

“For what? I think that was kinda cute. You and Weiss could have a killjoy showdown.”

Pyrrha rolled her eyes hugely, turning back to the bar. “I am not a killjoy. I’m breaking my diet significantly to engage in this with you,” she pointed out. “Beer is just so many empty calories.”

“So? Bread is too and we chow down on that all the time.” Twirling around in her seat once, Yang stopped the motion to slam her empty shot glass down on the bar. “And beer is made of wheat, so beer is like, liquid bread! We need those extra calories to fight the Grimm and keep our fair city safe.” Blinking a few times as the shot hit her, she cleared her throat. “Seems like a fair trade off.”

“That may be so, but—” Idly, Pyrrha pulled out her scroll to check for messages. “But— oh no.”

Yang quirked her head to the side in a silent question.

“We need to leave soon if we’re going to make curfew,” Pyrrha said, grabbing her by her upper arm and dragging her off the stool. Yang hurriedly gave the bartender another few bills, making sure he could keep the tip. She’d earned a lot of extra cash to burn, betting on fighters earlier on the night, and she was never one to waste an opportunity to seem flashy. Pyrrha seemed to have enjoyed going to see some fighters in action, though Yang didn’t share her moral qualms about pitting them against each other for money.

“There’s no way we’re getting to the front door in this mess,” Pyrrha shouted, or at least Yang was pretty sure that’s what she shouted. “Come on, this way.”

Pulling her through the crowd, she squeezed past one last person before her hand found the bar of the fire exit and they rushed outside, laughing as they did. Yang stumbled, Pyrrha’s strong arms feeling like the only thing keeping her aright as the door slammed shut behind them. The roaring noise cut off like it’d been strangled, the relatively cooler outside air hitting her like a slap in the face after the sweaty throng they’d just escaped. They were the only ones in the alley, a long stretch of darkness in front of them and a chain link fence blocking the other way.

“Oop!” Tripping over her feet again, Yang let go of her to find the wall of the building, feeling the bricks crumble loosely under her fingertips. “One second. Gimme one second. I’ll be good to walk in a second. One second,” she said again, and then clapped a hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t keep repeating herself. A nervous giggle escaped anyway and she closed her eyes, trying to reorient herself.

“You drank too much,” Pyrrha said, eyeing her up and down.

“Didn’t mean to,” Yang said, and it was the truth. “Overestimated myself.” Pressing her back flat against the wall, she shifted her weight a bit, legs spread to brace herself. “This is why I shouldn’t drink sitting down.”

Inside, she could still feel the music pulsing in time with the throbbing veins on her temples. She didn’t have a headache— not yet— but the cooler side of her brain knew she was dehydrated and it would rise up as a fantastic hangover tomorrow if she didn’t take care of herself tonight. “I just wanted us to have a good time,” Yang said.

Pyrrha smiled cautiously. “Well, good time or no, I just don’t want to be late. But don’t push yourself if you think you need a minute.”

Yang rolled her head, the motion loose. “I see, I see,” she said, though really she didn’t. “But you had a good time right? I’m not taking you home disgruntled and unfulfilled?”

“I did. I mean you aren’t.” Pausing to think, she pushed her bangs out of her face, closing her eyes to concentrate. “I had a good time,” she clarified at last, and then she leaned forward and kissed Yang on the cheek.

Cheeks lighting up, Yang giggled again, ducking her head low and scuffing one boot on the ground. Loose gravel kicked up, powdered dust and cigarette butts from a dozen lunch time smoke breaks from whoever worked here. “What was that for?” she grumbled, grinning hugely at the top of her boots. “Slow down girl, you’re a taken woman.”

“I’m not, actually,” she said, with a lot more confidence than Yang felt. “What makes you say that?”

“Uh—” Yang looked up, and that was a mistake, because Pyrrha was right there. “Oh, you know,” she said, trying to match Pyrrha’s easy, relaxed tone. “Beautiful, super smart, top of her class, famous athlete, part time model—” Pyrrha laughed. “—I guess I just figured? I don’t know.” Yang cleared her throat. “I mean the reason I asked you out here was because you and Ruby are so close, so…”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Ruby? Were you going to drag me out here to threaten me over your sister’s honor?”

“No!” Yang reassured her quickly, too quickly. Standing straight and stepping forward, waving her palms like she could wipe away the thought. “That came out super wrong. I mean, any friend of Ruby’s is a friend of mine, and I wanted you and me to be better acquainted, is all. You and me— I mean we’re not teammates, we’re not really friends, but we hang out a lot and I guess I just thought— I wanted to do that some more— Plus, you said you like live music that one time so—”

As if on cue, the lead guitarist screamed, the crowd echoing him tenfold.

“Though, maybe this isn’t really your style….” she conceded. “Um. What was I saying?”

“I’m not quite sure,” Pyrrha said, “You were rambling a bit. But a few steps before that, you were listing off a huge list of my good qualities. So, we could always go back there if you’re interested in continuing that discussion.”

Yang snorted. “You’re kind of a little shit, you know that?”

Her smile faltered a bit at that. “Oh. Um. I didn’t mean to… insult you? Sorry.”

“What? No, no, no, it was a compliment!” Taking her by the forearms, Yang pulled her a little closer. Emboldened by their proximity, and their isolation, and the booze running through her veins. “Don’t be sorry,” she said. “I like it. I like that about you.”

There was a long pause, Yang waiting for something else to happen, or for Pyrrha to do anything but stare at her with those big old, aura-bright eyes.

“I like you,” she added.

“We’re officially late for curfew,” Pyrrha noted. “And I like you too.”

Yang sensed her retreat, the subtle shift that meant she was going to pull away. It alarmed her; that wasn’t what was supposed to happen. But she didn’t yank her even closer though she wanted to, she let Pyrrha slip out of her hands and watched her put her own safely behind her back, smiling with her eyes.

She suddenly doubted herself. Had she not been clear? Did Pyrrha just not want to kiss someone she’d seen stumbling around blind drunk?

_God, Yang. Of course she doesn’t. You got nervous and you got too loose with the shots and now you’re a big sweaty slurring drunk._

“I like you like you though,” she said. “Uh. Just to be crystal here. This was like a date. I mean I wanted it to be like one.”

“I figured as much,” Pyrrha said, “Though, I didn’t want to presume. And I didn’t really know what to do with the information.” She pulled out her scroll, checking the time. “If we start walking now, we can catch a bus back to Beacon in time, I think.”

“So? Can I get a little good night kiss before we go home?”

Pyrrha paused. Her back turned to Yang, the only other indication she gave that she was listening was a fractional tilt of her head.

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine too.” Standing up straight, she rubbed the back of her neck, a little more aware of her words than she had been before. The night air cleared her head up a little, no longer swamped by the heat and motion of the crowd, the music pounding inside nothing more than a faint echo. “I mean, damn, I don’t know. I just don’t like beating around the bush.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Pyrrha agreed. Then she had Yang pressed up against the wall of the alley again— not sudden, but inarguable, and unyielding. It took Yang by surprise with how easy it felt, Pyrrha delivering it as she did all things: with smooth efficiency, and gentle strength. She paused, pulling back to gauge Yang’s reaction, to gauge her own reaction. A familiar sharp intake of breath, and her calloused palms tightening over Yang’s upper arms gave Yang enough warning for the next kiss, harder than the first.

She let out a small complaining noise, head tilted back and arms trapped; Pyrrha drew back at once, already concerned. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” Yang said, “I’m just usually taller than the girls I kiss. It’s weird.”

“Oh.” She actually blushed, red creeping into her cheeks. “Well I’m usually taller than… everyone. Though I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

Yang’s eyebrows darted up. “What? But you’re. I mean you were really good.” The more she thought about it, the more impossible it seemed. “And you’re so  _hot_ , what the fuck.”

The compliments made her beam, though she didn’t gloat about it as Yang might have. “Thank you…” she said, hands now carefully tucked behind her back, to keep them from touching again without permission. “Maybe we could… do it again? Sometime? The whole date thing.”

Nodding just a little too fast because she didn’t trust herself not to fudge her words, Yang waited until the world stopped spinning before they moved back out, heading home.

Once Pyrrha’s back was turned, though, Yang pumped her fist, closing her eyes and quietly mouthing  _Yesssss!_


End file.
